Today Sneeze died. She was one of my mum’s two terriers. She was a smashing little dog with bags of character. Even my father, a man who really didn’t like small dogs, grew to love her in the years before he died. One day, Sneeze went missing in the village. Dad, distraught, went out to search for her, found her and in doing so apparently ‘bonded with her’. (His words and very uncharacteristic.) Sneeze accompanied Mum on numerous tours and, with her accomplice Whisper, became the official Gloucestershire Ladies Golf Team mascots during Mum’s county captaincy. Sneeze is seen here on the right, clearly embarrassed by being asked to wear Gloucestershire colours, when obviously, as a Yorkshire Terrier, she was confronted with an unenviable conflict of interest.
Last weekend, when I visited Minchinhampton, Sneeze was ill and tired, but found the energy to bark at me, come and sit on my knee and hassle me for food. I know that she will have died happy in the knowledge (if dogs can have such knowledge) that she was a much loved little dog.